


Returning Kindness

by shenshen77



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Awesome Natasha Romanov, BAMF Clint Barton, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Battle of New York (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Natasha Romanov, Team Bonding, Team Feels, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 18:12:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1867548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenshen77/pseuds/shenshen77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Loki's possession Clint thinks he's losing his mind. But is he really?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning Kindness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlwaysLera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysLera/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You Were A Kindness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043941) by [AlwaysLera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysLera/pseuds/AlwaysLera). 



> Written as part of the be_compromised remix exchange. I read the fic by alwayslera and was immediately struck by the visual of water as a means of redemption. So I hope Lera won't mind that I turned her Natasha!centric piece into Clint!centric h/c with the whole team included. I used one passage from the original fic in this, see if you can spot it :)
> 
> Special thanks to Anuna and Sneakyhufflepuff for the beta, you are awesome!

Clint woke up drenched in sweat, his heart beating furiously. He rubbed his stinging eyes with shaking hands, his body tingling all over as tightly clenched muscles slowly relaxed.

The voices of the dead were ringing in his head, their faces still vivid from his blue-tinged nightmare.

“ _Traitor.”_

He turned on his back with a deep sigh and flung his arm over his eyes. He hadn't slept more than an hour here and there since about a week after the battle of New York, which was when the nightmares had started. His apartment was a mess, with unwashed clothes piled high on the armchair and dirty dishes filling up the sink, even though he only spent enough time there to eat, shower and sleep. Or at least attempt the latter. Natasha would roll her eyes and call him a pig if she saw the state it was in and Phil would get that disapproving look usually reserved for Clint's pranks. But Phil was dead and Natasha wasn't here and a now familiar heaviness settled over him.

“ _It's all your fault.”_

Every day since Natasha brought him back from Loki was the same. Mandatory sessions with a SHIELD therapist (They talked about PTSD, his therapist thought he was at high risk and she prescribed drugs against the changes in his brain chemistry. He didn't like the drugs, the feeling of not being in control. And they didn't seem to help either, the voices still kept him on edge, but he didn't know what else to do.), training on the range and helping with the cleanup. He kept his distance from Natasha after his first nightmare, somehow afraid that he'd unwittingly hurt her after seeing the video of her interrogating Loki.

“ _Killer.”_

She took to trailing him whenever her obligations to SHIELD allowed, and he could sense her around him. At least in the beginning, by now he was frankly too tired to notice.

Taking measured breaths, he tried to will himself back to sleep.

“ _It should have been you.”_

His eyes flew open. So much for sleep, he thought. Not like he deserved a peaceful night anyway.

xxxxxx

The icy water was exactly what he wanted as it slammed against him in his grubby shower. It temporarily cleared the fog that had slowly engulfed his mind over the past weeks, growing thicker and more cloying with every sleepless night. This was worse than any exhaustion he'd felt coming off a mission.

_“Traitor.”_

A pressure headache had been his constant companion ever since the voices started. Over the next few days the world took on a purple tinge and things started to go out of focus, glowing around the edges as if they weren't really there.

“ _You should have died.”_

Clint had started to distrust his most valued sense and finally asked Thor what he knew about Asgardian magic and how it might affect human perceptions of the world around them. Thor had looked at him quizzically until Clint explained what was happening, before confirming that magic was nothing else than human science. The tesseract's energy could have changed Clint's brain chemistry, but since he was no healer Thor hadn't been able to offer an immediate solution. He had promised to talk to the healers in Asgard next chance he got while nearly crushing Clint's shoulder as he squeezed it.

Clint sighed as he shut off the water and reached for his towel. Despite the shower he still felt unclean and tainted.

“ _Killer.”_

The voices, temporarily drowned out by the shower, were back and started taunting him again. He bit his lip, cracked his neck and put on his uniform, hoping that a few rounds of target practice on the range might help clear his mind.

xxxxxx

The call reached him on the range just as he collected the arrows stuck everywhere. The voices had distracted him, the targets seemed to dance just out of his sight, mocking him. Slight tremors ran up his arms, heavy as the rest of his body. He felt like he weighed a ton, his muscles aching with fatigue and his mind weighed down by the guilt he couldn't shake. He knew intellectually that what he had done while under Loki's control was not his fault.

“ _You're weak.”_

But his heart refused to accept it, mourning the loss of Phil and the hundreds of people who died in the attack on the helicarrier and in the chitauri invasion. If only he had been stronger, maybe he would have been able to fight off the hold the staff had over him. Rubbing his trembling arms he heeded the call for the Avengers to assemble. He was still surprised that Cap, Stark, Banner and Thor wanted him on the team in the first place, had trusted him immediately after Nat broke Loki's hold over him.

“ _Monster.”_

They had just accepted him as he was. Banner had even smiled at him sheepishly and welcomed him to their team of freaks. “We've all done things we're not proud of, Barton. But together we're stronger than the darkness, don't you think?”

Nat had squeezed his hand that moment and it had felt good to be part of something new. But that was before the nightmares and his distrust of himself. What good he'd be for them, he had no idea. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and left the range heading for the hangar.

xxxxxx

The robots seemed to come from everywhere, unhindered by the rain pouring down. Iron Man swooped down, leaving a good dozen as scrap metal in his wake. Cap's shield whooshed past Clint, cleanly chopping off the heads of a handful of robots before returning to Steve's outstretched hand. Thor's battle cry was echoed in Hulk's roar of “Smash!” as more robots disintegrated under the force of Mjolnir and Hulk's fists. Clint would have grinned had he not been so busy shooting the machines that tried to overrun them. He lost track of Natasha, who had just been there next to Steve a moment ago, and jumped from the overturned car he'd been perched on onto the bridge's balustrade to get a better view. There she was, a sleek black blur at the edge of his vision, discharging her widow's bite and leaving disabled bots behind.

The comms were filled with all their voices, Stark calling out patterns from above, Steve sending the rest of them where they were needed the most. And in between, suddenly

“ _Traitor.”_

Clint shook his head. No, not now. Not now. Suddenly it was hard to breathe, and the arrow he'd knocked a second ago left his bow, ending nowhere near his intended target. His vision swam as he heard it again.

“ _It's all your fault."_

The robot barreled into him and he hadn't even seen it coming. He lost his footing on the slippery concrete and toppled over, his friends' voices calling his name all he heard as he rushed towards the river below.

The water was icy as it swallowed him, the impact driving the air from his lungs. Quiet surrounded him and for a moment he knew peace. Nothing mattered, the cold water taking everything unwanted with it, drowning the voices. For a heartbeat he wanted to stay right there, just float away silently like he never existed. Then he thought of Natasha, who gave up everything she knew to follow him. He kicked his feet and struggled up for air, suddenly afraid he wouldn't make it in time.

He felt a disturbance in the water, an impact and for a moment he thought it was the bot trying to finish him off. Then she was there, grabbed him by the neck and pulled him out of the water and onto the shore. She held onto him, gasping for air, her fingers twining with his as he coughed and tried to fill his lungs again. She spat water out onto the ground next to him and glared at him. He saw her lips move, but he couldn't hear anything.

“Nat, I can't hear you. Water must have shorted my hearing aids.”

“Are you fucking nuts?” she signed, her fingers finding the familiar patterns.

He closed his eyes and signed. “I think I might be.”

His chest was heaving next to her as he tried to breathe and both of their bodies were shaking from the cold.

The familiar shape of Iron Man swooped down to where they lay and Clint figured that he was talking to Natasha, who turned to Stark and said something to him before he flew off again.

“Are the others okay?” he asked.

“Yes, Hulk made short work of the robots when you fell. I think he likes you,” she signed with a worried smile.

She hauled him upright and studied his face, clasped between her hands, and he did not pull away. He let her see the fatigue, the guilt, the lack of sleep, all etched onto his features. Her lips were blue, yet he could feel her breath hot against his skin, feel her heartbeat where she touched him, full of life, her fingers gentle against his cheeks. He leaned into her and drew strength from her steady presence for a moment. Then his teeth started to chatter, exacerbating the tremors already wracking his body and he let her lead him back to the others. Before he knew it they were back with the others. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion and refused to stay open for any amount of time. Someone, maybe Steve, maybe Thor - he couldn't tell and really didn't care - wrapped a blanket around him and Natasha and then he knew no more.

xxxxxx

He couldn't remember how they got to Stark Tower and he didn't care. All he knew and cared about was Natasha holding him in a comfortable bed under a mountain of blankets. He was almost warm again after a shower in the most luxurious bathroom he'd ever seen. His ruined hearing aids were left on the vanity and he was sure that Stark would have a field day taking them apart and improving them.

Natasha was soft against his back, her hands on his chest, tapping to get his attention.

“What's going on?” she signed.

She held him gently and steady as he told her, about the voices, the sleeplessness. The fear that the voices were right, that he was a traitor, a killer. That he was weak, that Loki had permanently damaged him. That there was something wrong with him that made him a threat to everyone he knew and cared about.

He didn't use his hands, just spoke quietly, exhausted and grateful that he couldn't hear himself. Grateful that he couldn't hear anything.

“The voices, they're quiet. Nothing since I fell. What do you think that means?” he ended and turned around in her arms, yawning.

She shrugged, yet he could see that she was thinking and her hands came up to sign.

“I have a theory, but I'll need Stark to confirm it.”

Clint mustered her, sleepily trying to follow her train of thought. Only one thing made sense if she needed the tinkerer to help her confirm it.

“You think someone tampered with my hearing aids?”

She nodded, her face set in a fierce mask as she signed, “If someone did, they'll wish they were never born.”

And in that moment Clint knew he should have told her sooner.

“Even if someone tampered with my aids, they didn't cause all this, only made it worse. I should have told you when it started. When the shrink and the meds didn't help.”

“Well, you're an idiot,” her hands spelled and she rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. “But you're my idiot. Don't ever shut me out like this again.”

“I won't.”

He yawned and gently kissed her, his eyes falling closed as her fingers carded through his hair.

He felt her tap something on his chest, but his eyes refused to open. On the brink of sleep he recognized the Morse code. “I've got you.”

xxxxxx

Clint woke up screaming, his heart beating furiously. The voices of the dead were ringing in his head, their faces still vivid from his blue-tinged nightmare.

Lithe, strong arms gently enfolded him and warm lips pressed a kiss against his shoulder. He smelled her shampoo even before the lights came on low, illuminating her worried face.

He saw her lips move. “I've got you. You're not alone.”

Clinging to her, he let himself believe it.


End file.
